by Leslie Jones
Gabe glowered. “Trevor, tell Julian he needs to go back to London.”
“He’s there?” Trevor was startled. “Julian, my good man, what are you doing in Grasvlakten?”
“Visiting my fiancée,” said Julian. “Or so I thought. Did you know we talk every day?”
“I knew, of course,” Trevor admitted. “I advised her to keep up the pretense of keeping to Christina’s schedule, so you wouldn’t worry. I wanted to prevent exactly what apparently happened.”
Julian looked unhappy. “Do you mean to say that I was the target? That I flew here and your assailants followed me, and that’s why we were attacked?”
Trevor was silent.
“Trev?”
“Very probably not, but I can’t know with absolute certainty,” Trevor admitted. “We’re assuming the target is Ronnie, because no one accosted you either before or after. I can tell the rest of you, though, without reservation, that he’s in the clear.”
Gabe frowned. Christina sighed. Why had Gabe chosen Julian to dislike? He could help them. It would be nice to think that it might be jealousy, but that was beyond silly. Gabe liked control. Perhaps he felt that things were getting out of hand, and that guarding Deni and Julian both would burden his team too much.
“I’d still like to help,” Julian said firmly. “I can lend legitimacy in many ways. In the language department, certainly. Everyone is happy to speak English when I’m with Ronnie. You’ve had difficulties, I’m certain, with Christina not speaking the language.”
“We’ve had a couple of close calls, but we’ve managed,” Christina said.
“It’s settled, then. I’ll remain with you until these men are caught, as long as Ronnie stays safe with Trevor.”
“No,” Gabe said. “You’re a handicap. Our focus needs to be on Christina. No distractions.”
Julian leaned against the back of the sofa. “Short of shooting me, old chap, how do you propose to keep me away?”
The tension level inside the room skyrocketed. The two men locked stares. Gabe shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.
“Gabe.” She made her voice sharp, and as authoritative as she could. “Trevor cleared him. You heard that, same as the rest of us.”
“I’m team leader here,” he reminded her calmly. As though she’d forget it. His implacable tone made her shiver. “I’m nothing like that fool in Iraq.”
“If there’s one thing I learned in Baghdad . . .”
On the open phone line, Trevor cleared his throat. “Gabe, I’m not sure what she’s told you about that mission, or what you’ve heard. There’s more to the story . . .”
“No.” Gabe cut him off. “That’s the end of it. Thank you, Lord Brumley, but it’s time for you to go home.”
Julian cocked a curious look at him. “If Christina wants me to stay, I stay. That’s the end of it, chum.”
Gabe turned to Christina, pinning her with a look she understood all too clearly. Unwilling to be the cause of strife within the team, she took a deep breath. “Julian, it would probably be better if you went back to London. Stay the night here, though. It’s very late.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “That’s it, then. I’ll have a footman bring my bags up.”
Wait . . . what? He was going to stay with her? Well, hadn’t she just invited him to? She almost laughed out loud. It was perfect. It would get Gabe off of her couch and out of her room.
DESPITE GABE’S GLOWERS, Julian had his bags brought to Christina’s room. Into her fucking bedroom. The maid unpacked his suits and slacks, and hung them next to Christina’s in the closet. It came as no surprise that he and Ronnie were sleeping together. Who waited for marriage anymore? He certainly wasn’t saving himself for anything.
It didn’t take Christina very long to notice that his duffel and sleeping bag were still tucked behind the couch.
“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “Really, Gabe, you’re being—“
“Is Brumley an operator?” he asked. Too bluntly. Too rudely, but he didn’t care. “Can he protect you if someone breaks in here in the middle of the night? Can he defend against a knife attack?” He didn’t wait for her response. “No, he can’t. My job is to keep you alive until we figure this mess out. And now, apparently, my job includes keeping his ass alive, too.” He jerked a thumb at Brumley, who was at the other end of the room peering out the window. He didn’t turn or react, but Gabe knew he’d overheard. He’d meant the other man to hear.
“Gabe, for God’s sake. It’s one night.”
“Fine. Whatever.” With bad grace, he stomped out of the room and went next door, where his teammates were cleaning weapons, sharpening steel, and yapping their big mouths. All conversation stopped as he entered the room. The ribbing started immediately.
“What happened, Romeo? Did you get kicked out of Juliet’s bed?” asked Mace.
“Fuck you. I was sleeping on the couch, not in her bed.”
Tag laughed in his face. “We know that’s not where you wanted to be, though, you dog.”
“Fuck you.”
Gavin made a cutting motion near his crotch. “Decapitated,” he said, grinning.
“Fuck . . .”
“ . . . You. I know.” Gavin punched him in the arm, which actually stung a little. Even at fifty, the man was preternaturally strong. “Tell me you didn’t have some idea of saving Christina and having her fall all over you in gratitude?”
“I’m not going to dignify that,” Gabe retorted. “I’m a professional, and so is she.”
Alex chimed in, a little tentatively. “Gabe, so far she’s done a hell of a job. Sometimes I forget she’s not one of us. When we’re out in public and she’s doing her thing, she’s great.”
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, where tension seemed to have taken up permanent residence. “I know. She’s a natural at this. I just don’t want rash decisions to put any of you in jeopardy.”
That was met with bewildered looks.
“We’ve all done executive protection,” Tag said. “When we’re guarding a principal, they don’t know what the hell they’re doing. And we cope. Christina’s at least had training. Hand to hand. Weapons. Not like that senator’s kid from Georgetown we guarded a couple years ago.”
“That ditzy airhead,” Mace said, with a healthy amount of disgust. “She couldn’t put two syllables together that didn’t add up to ‘fuck me, Mace.’ ”
“Too bad about that, dickhead,” Gavin said.
“Fuck that. I like a woman with a brain in her head.”
Tag stood. “Gabe, what’s going on? She’s been an advantage from the start. Did something happen?”
“Have you forgotten tonight already? Teammates don’t challenge the team leader’s decisions in the heat of crisis. She jeopardized the mission, spilling it all to a potential threat.”
The room went dead silent.
“What?”
“She made a gut-call. Any one of us would have done the same,” Gavin said. “We’re trained to think beyond orders. Let’s be honest, man. You reacted emotionally instead of acting logically.”
Alex, slouched back against the wall, folded his arms across his chest. “Like you didn’t like the fiancé being there. Like you were jealous.”
He threw a death glare at the kid. Alex had the sense to deflate.
His teammates were looking at him oddly. Mace was the first to say it.
“Jesus, Gabe. Do you have a thing for her?”
He swung away, irritated. “Of course not. We have a job to do, is all.”
Mace and Tag exchanged a look.
“What?” he demanded.
Suddenly, they were all innocent faces and wide eyes. He had no trouble reading their minds.
“Fuck you all.”
They laughed.
Gavin punched Gabe
in the arm again, harder, and in the same spot. “You’re an idiot.”
Ow.
Maybe he was. He wondered what Christina and Julian were doing. Were they really going to sleep together in that bed, in the nasty yellow room? Well, yeah. If he insisted on staying on the sofa, they would have no choice.
He stomped next door and banged it open without knocking. Christina and Brumley were sitting side by side on the couch, heads close together as they talked. Christina had her head thrown back as she laughed. Gabe’s heart nearly stopped at the beauty of the sound.
They both looked up in surprise. Christina rose to her feet. “Gabe, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he bit out. He hefted his duffel onto a shoulder, feeling his biceps expand as he twisted the heavy bag and scooped his sleeping bag into the other hand. Without another word, he stalked out.
In a thoroughly pissed-off mood, he returned to the team room and dropped his gear. He stripped off his tux. The attack left it covered in dirt and some leaves. He draped it over the back of a chair. With any luck, he wouldn’t need it again.
“I’m going for a run,” he announced. Maybe that would calm him.
“I’ll go with you,” Tag said.
“Me, too.” Gavin changed into shorts and a T-shirt.
“Under no circumstances is she to leave this house,” he said, pointing a finger at first Alex, then Mace. They nodded assent.
The police were gone. A few guests still milled around, both in the ballroom and outside, chattering about the evening’s excitement. Gabe bypassed them and hit the road hard. After two miles, the tension in his neck started to relax. At four, his blood calmed.
Gabe pushed himself faster. He’d screwed up earlier, disparaging Christina’s decision. They’d started to understand each other, even trust each other. And then he’d cut her down in front of the entire team.
He owed her an apology. She’d been right to trust Brumley. Instead of shouting at her, he needed to listen to her. Plain old green jealousy had reared its ugly head when he’d seen them dancing so closely together. He’d wanted to be the one holding her. And the strength of that wanting scared the hell out of him.
His men seemed to know this wasn’t the time to talk. They kept pace, letting him gather his thoughts. At six miles, he turned them around and started back. When they hit the last mile, he stretched his legs, and it became a race between the three of them. However childish, the impulse to win was so strongly ingrained in them that it never occurred to any of them to lose. Gabe and Tag crossed into the driveway neck and neck, with Gavin a step behind. Slowing to a trot to cool down, they circled the villa. By now, it was deserted and quiet.
Quelling the impulse to seek her out and apologize at once, he paced the hallway while the others showered. Mace, on guard duty outside Christina’s door, finally shook his head.
“You’re not gettin’ in there tonight, buddy.”
Gabe finally stopped and leaned against the wall. “I know. I’ll fix it.”
“If you can.” Mace gave him no slack. He didn’t deserve any. “I thought—we all thought—you were just sniffin’ ’round her skirts. But Christ, Gabe. Are you in love with her?”
Gabe stiffened and began pacing again. “No. Hell, no. I don’t do love.”
“Not since Leanne. She fucked you over good, no denying it. That was four years ago, though. When are you going to get back up on the horse?”
“Never.” But Christina’s beautiful face swam through his mind. “And for fuck’s sake not with another fucking CIA agent.”
Tag stuck his head out the open door. “Your turn, man.”
He scrubbed his sweat-slicked skin as though he could slough off every mistake he’d made since he first met her. He’d been too harsh, too cutting. And his men had it right. She’d performed admirably, up to and including her decision to trust fucking Brumley with the truth.
The others had already chosen sleeping spots in the bed and on the couch and floor. He moved his things into an unoccupied corner, cursing under his breath the whole time.
Chapter Seventeen
CHRISTINA SPOKE FIRST. “I’m sorry for the deception.”
Julian spread his hands apart. “It’s Ronnie’s deception as much as yours.”
“Are you . . . please don’t be upset with her. Even Trevor agreed it was best to keep you apart until we get this figured out. If you’d known . . .”
“I would have insisted you tell me where she was staying so I could join her,” Julian finished for her. “Yes, I realize that now. Until this is sorted, I agree to stay away from Ronnie.” He surveyed her, peering closely. “It’s an amazing resemblance. I knew as soon as I touched your arm, but in the dim lightning, even I might have been fooled for a few seconds.”
“My arm?” Christina twisted her head and grabbed the T-shirt’s sleeve, pulling it up to peer at her scar. “I should have been wearing long sleeves, but Ronnie’s dress was custom made for her. So how did you and Ronnie meet?”
“At a symposium two years ago. She is very passionate about her causes. Children’s welfare, adequate care for war veterans, things like that. We were arguing before the European Union’s Environmental Policy Council about oil exploration in Concordia. On opposite sides, no less, and I found her arguments so persuasive that I asked her out that very day.”
“She changed your mind?” Christina wondered what that would feel like.
“Not in this case. She believes it’s necessary for Concordia’s economic growth. I voted against her proposal. But her passion intrigued me.” His face softened. “We’ve been on the same side ever since, though. She’s truly one of the kindest-hearted women I’ve ever met.”
Christina felt a slow bump of envy. Ronnie and Julian found something together that she could never hope to have. “From everything I’ve seen, I agree. I guess I’m not exactly what you’d call gentle.”
Julian cocked his head at her, much as Trevor used to do. They did resemble one another, though one was fair and the other dark-haired. Julian had the same short curly hair, which probably had the same soft consistency as Trevor’s, and the strong jawline. He’d been a good friend when she needed one.
The SpecOps community was a small one. Everyone who’d been at Prince Nasser Hospital in Azakistan’s capital city seven months ago knew she’d shown up wearing Trevor’s clothes. Never mind that her own had been filthy by the time Trevor paid her fine and sprung her from jail, where she’d ended up because a conservative imam didn’t like her not wearing a hijab. Never mind that his apartment stood miles closer than hers. Everyone’d taken one look at her and assumed.
The political counselor, Shelby Gibson, had gone white as a sheet when she’d seen Christina. She’d assumed, too. And then broke things off with Trevor.
“I disagree,” Julian said now. “I see a strong woman in front of me, yes, but an intelligent and empathetic one as well. You’re concerned about Ronnie’s feelings, that’s clear enough. It’s her reputation you’re wearing, after all.”
Christina hadn’t thought of it in those terms. Butterflies started in her stomach.
“Relax,” Julian said, surprised. “I didn’t mean to worry you. It was inevitable that I would know you weren’t my fiancée.” He shot her an unrepentant grin. “After all, I’ve counted the freckles on her back.”
Christina relaxed even as her cheeks reddened. “I see.”
“Which brings me to a rather delicate subject.” Julian cleared his throat. “Our sleeping arrangements. Will you be comfortable with me on the sofa instead of one of your bodyguards?”
“Yeah, I’m fine with it. We’re safe for tonight. We were attacked on the way here. Two in as many days. I’m confident they won’t be able to pull together a third so fast.”
He frowned, clearly unhappy. “I’d rather I were the target.”
“
I know. Trevor’s investigating everyone either of you knows. We’ll have something concrete soon.”
He sighed, hands clasped loosely between his knees. “I can never express my gratitude for the risk you’re taking.”
“Uh, all in a day’s work?”
“No. Above and beyond. I’ll see you get a medal for this.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Her goal was simply not to get fired.
Deni knocked as she and Gabe came through the door. It astounded Christina that after everything that had happened that evening, she still looked as polished and proper as a queen. “I wished to ensure you took no ill effects from tonight’s drama,” she said. “I could not come any sooner. All the guests were detained and questioned. Many were upset at this, and required some feather-soothing.”
“Their feathers got ruffled?” Christina rose from the sofa and put the width of the room between herself and Gabe. His eyes were laser-sharp, his face an expressionless mask. His gaze followed her as she retreated.
“Oui. Gunfire is not customary at formal galas.” Though her voice and face remained bland, mirth lurked in her eyes.
“Oh, my God, Deni, did you just make a joke?”
A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Perhaps. Between the excitement of the drive here and tonight’s drama, I find myself feeling peculiarly alive.”
Christina could relate. “I get that. It’s normal. Surviving danger wakes up your senses.” She couldn’t help a glance across the room. And then wished she hadn’t, because the heat in Gabe’s eyes nearly scalded her. Oh, yeah. His senses were awakened, all right. But he’d missed out on his chance with her. Whatever game he’d been playing last night, she wanted no part of it.
His eyes narrowed. She glared right back at him.
To Julian’s surprise and Deni’s amusement, Gabe stamped across the room and clamped a hand around Christina’s upper arm. Without ceremony, he dragged her into the bedroom, kicking the door closed with his boot. He swung her around, slammed her up against his chest, and proceeded to kiss the living shit out of her.
This was no gentle seduction; this was full-out war. He thrust his tongue past the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. Her body reacted of its own accord, curling into him and opening her mouth beneath his onslaught. Gabe excited her. She wanted him. Craved him. Running her hands up his shoulders, she angled her head to fuse their mouths together. His tongue dueled with hers, stroking urgently. His taste addicted her; hot and carnal, giving and receiving pleasure.
